… Most of the time there’s an extra third. But once I found myself in a situation where the fifth was redundant. And it so happened that the ‘fifth’ was me …
This story happened eleven years ago, in the summer of 2012. You will ask, how can you be so precise? And you’d be right to ask such a question. But not in this case. There are some things you can’t forget. What happened to me, or rather to us, forever changed our lives with my wife, differently prioritised. Believe it or not, I remember everything that happened then down to the smallest detail….
Luda and I were to go to her small homeland. The reason was very good, my mother-in-law was turning sixty. The event, in my wife’s opinion, if not of universal scale, then approaching to it. In advance we bought a gift, or rather, gifts. Everything was beautifully packed and tied with bright ribbons. Luda obliged me to prepare a speech that would show how much we, and I especially, love our mother. Although, truth be told, what, I couldn’t find warm words improvising? Impromptu? I could, of course. But my wife wanted that special sparkle, that precision. So I spent a week perfecting it.
We planned to leave on Saturday, as they say, early in the morning. To go a little more than a hundred kilometres, it would seem a little, but one section of the road, about twenty kilometres and a half, was in such a state that…. That’s why we decided to have a good amount of time. Yes, I forgot to say that not only my second half is driving in our family. Sometimes it’s good, sometimes it’s not so good. If I’ve had too much to drink on a visit, the other driver is a boon. But very often we both claim the car. Guess who has the upper hand in these situations in the age of emancipation. It’s not hard to guess. This time, on the Friday before the trip, the car was used by my wife. She left us in the morning to work, motivated by the fact that it will be necessary during the day to get out to the hairdresser’s, nail service and so on. Luda left in our Niva and arrived in a taxi. She left the car in the car park near her work. As she explained to me, she couldn’t get into first or second gear.
– The gearbox had failed,’ I summarised.
– We have to go tomorrow, remember! Maybe you can repair it…
– You’re joking, chief, – I sneered gloomily. It’s not like changing a tyre. There, most likely, one day will not do. And it’ll cost a lot of money…
… Saturday morning we called a taxi to the railway station. I saw an electric train and remembered my younger years and trips on this miracle transport. I remembered and shuddered.
Saturday, a lot of people. We could barely cram our boxes into the carriage. It was out of the question to sit down. But the trick is that in four stops almost all this crowd in shorts, panamas, wide-brimmed hats will merge with nature. There’s a river there with nice sandy beaches. And they all want to go there. I even envied them… Our carriage, which was the first in the electric train, was almost empty and we were able to put our things on the shelves and our tired bodies on the seats. The seats, as in the old days, were wooden. A wooden bench and another one across from it. And people sit on them three or four at a time and look at the same passengers sitting opposite. Luda and I sat not next to each other, but opposite each other, so it was much more comfortable when talking. I look at the passengers. A motley crowd. Who is busy with what: someone is sleeping, someone is reading, but there are few of them. Some are staring out of the not very transparent windows. Nothing changes, that’s how it was when I was young, that’s how it is now. And here is another artefact from those times, which, unlike the dinosaurs, has managed to migrate safely into our era. I’m referring, of course, to the peddlers. One of them advertises the goods, the other stands behind, waiting for his turn. A young, short-haired guy about 28-30 years old, selling drinks, including beer, went through the carriage, selling a few bottles on the way, and sat down tiredly opposite me next to my wife. Apparently he was not a cheapskate, because he said hello and asked if we minded. He put his box on the bench next to me.
– Half an hour’s smoke break,’ said our neighbour.
We didn’t argue with it, a smoke break is a smoke break. But the guy apparently couldn’t keep silent for long. Whether it was his professional habit or an inborn peculiarity, I can’t judge. He promptly introduced himself, calling himself Yuri.
– Ivan,’ I reciprocated. Luda remained silent for some reason, but Yura didn’t insist. No, so no. Suddenly our cheerful neighbour-passenger suggested playing cards. My wife and I looked at each other in silence. He reacted to our wariness in his own way and decided to dispel our doubts.
– No, not money, if that’s what you mean. Just to pass the time. It’s a game of cards.
– We’re not afraid, – my wife suddenly replied. Let’s play. By the way, my name is Lyudmila, Luda….
Yurkin’s box with goods served as a lomber table. The game was not quite like what I was used to. Yura wouldn’t stop talking. He was quite witty. My wife was smiling, and in some places she laughed contagiously. It had been a long time since I had seen her like that. Suddenly I noticed one strange thing. During the game, Yura, addressing my wife, began to touch her lightly with his hand, at first only on the shoulder. Then more. Several times he casually touched my wife’s thigh, then her knee. And all this happened as if by accident, looked like an innocent gesture. But my Luda, in spite of the ‘innocence’ of these ‘gestures’, for some reason then blushed and in her eyes she had a special lustre. Her lips curved in a smile of excitement. Yes, she was a little drunk. But the strangest thing was happening to me. I was very, very jealous when I was young. I even fought at my sister-in-law’s wedding for that reason. And then I never noticed any inclination to share my wife with anyone else. But here. I can’t explain it, but I was in a daze for a moment. No, not a numbness, I could move. It was a kind of dreamy lullaby. Yes, yes! That’s it. I searched long and hard for words to express my state of mind at that moment. I was afraid of scaring this feeling away, afraid that this obsession would suddenly disappear. My condition did not slow down the quality of the game and I began to lose time after time. Both Luda and Yura started to tease me. In another situation, I would have been angry. But here… I was still in nirvana and I didn’t want to come back from it…..
… Yura never went back to trading. We played. We only finished when we got to E. Zhenya barely managed to bring me to my senses.
– You’ve been weird.
– When?
– Just now, when we were playing cards. By the way, Yurka and I exchanged phone numbers in case you need anything. What my wife might need from a random travelling companion, I think I began to guess….
The feast on the occasion of my mother-in-law’s jubilee was long over. We stayed in E. for a couple of days, made prepared toasts, drank the prescribed amount of vodka. I had a drunken quarrel with Tolik, my sister-in-law’s husband, and then I beat him up. But it’s been more than a fortnight since we’ve been home. Life seems to be back to normal. Got my car repaired, go to work during the day, sleep at night. Everything seems normal. Seems fine. In fact, I can’t forget our trip, our game in the train carriage. I want to experience again the feeling I got when I saw my wife flirting with me. What’s the matter with me?! How can I get rid of it? But some voice reassured me.
– Why would you want to get rid of those feelings? Didn’t you dislike them, didn’t you want to feel them again?
And to my shame, to my dismay, I realised that I wanted to feel it all again! I do. I wonder what I’m becoming. How do I categorise my perversion? Maybe it’s not a perversion at all. Maybe it’s normal and everyone else is abnormal. I’ve stopped being interested in my wife. Not in general, of course. I just stopped fucking her like I used to. Now I had other things on my mind: I dreamed of my Luda flirting with other men. And the subjects of these pictures were getting bolder and bolder every day. My wife, of course, could not help noticing the oddities in my behaviour.
– What happened to you? It’s like you’re a stranger, you’re so distant. Is it because of Tolya? So he’s a fool! What can I take from him! Listen, what if you and I go out?
– Maybe to the beach on Saturday? – I suggested, though I didn’t want to go to any beach.
– No way! In this weather!
It’s been raining for three days, how did I get it wrong?
– Vanya! I have another suggestion. Yurka called me yesterday. He invites me to visit him. So maybe we’ll go on Saturday instead of the beach?
I got an electric shock after the name Yura. I immediately realised who it was about, but I didn’t let on.
– Yura who? – I asked as carefree as possible.
– Well, do you remember, when we played cards in the train? He was so cheerful, joking about everything.
– Oh, of course. I remember.
– He invites us on Saturday, – my wife said with a slight blush.
– Where to?
– I don’t know, but first to his house, and then… we’ll decide what to do next.
– Well, let’s go, if he invites us, – as if reluctantly agreed, although I was so tempted to shout ‘I agree, let’s go right now!’.
It’s Thursday. Saturday’s the next day. It’s a long wait. But all right, I’ll get through it. But just to be on the safe side, I asked my wife.
– Who is this Yura? A relative? Why are we going to see him?
She looked at me surprised.
– What kind of relative is he? He’s an acquaintance, we played cards on the train. Have you forgotten?
– No, I hadn’t forgotten,’ I answered, fearing in my heart that Luda had not cancelled the visit.
On Saturday night I tried to fuck my wife for the first time since our trip. I needed to release some emotional tension. I had been abstinent for more than two weeks, and yet she refused me, citing indisposition…I lay in the dark for a long time, not falling asleep. I lay there thinking. I thought about what my wife expects from tomorrow. I don’t think she’s making any far-reaching erotic plans. She’s not a strategist by nature. She wants to show off, even flirt. That’s what she wants. But I don’t think she’ll do more than that, not in front of me, anyway. As for me, I’m very good at fantasising. I wouldn’t want it to go to shit. Otherwise, I’ve thought of something like this.
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